Lap Animals
by Sabella
Summary: What drives a man to betray, to destroy? A glimpse inside Bishop's twisted thoughts on the eve of betrayal. Complete.


Bishop again glanced at the narrow door that led from the Keep's portal to the cramped room of intricate gears and levers that effortlessly opened and closed the heavy gates to the inner Keep. Glancing was all he could do without arousing suspicion.

They all stood in the Courtyard, like the obedient lap dogs they all were, while Nevalle briskly blathered away to the Knight Captain, shamelessly flirting with the young woman, professing he couldn't 'teach her anything she didn't already know.' And, she, in turn, was taunting Nasher's right-hand man with the flutter of her long lashes and that spell-binding pouty smile she conjured with nary an utterance. Bishop bitterly reflected that she had used it on him enough times that he knew its focus by heart, and his insides fired out of control every time she cast it upon some other hapless male. The witless Paladin was the worse. He sucked up her dribbles of attention like a dry mop.

But, thought Bishop, there would be a day of atonement – a day of reckoning – and soon. He would see to it. Yes, indeed. He would show her once and for all that she couldn't just indiscriminately charm _any_ male on the face of Toril and expect _all _of them to melt into one homogenous pool of unrequited testosterone. He would no longer be a victim of her wiles. Not him.

He fidgeted as he watched the scene in front of him, then reminded himself he had to be cautious and on his guard. The witless Paladin and the soppy Wizard would sense something amiss if he wasn't extraordinarily careful, and at this juncture, he could ill-afford to be exposed. Too much was riding on the flawless execution of his plan. His life; his future – if he was to have one -- but even more important, she would _know_ that he had been her undoing. A simple ranger from a uncharted, burned-out village of Neverwinter would bring the mighty Knight Captain and all she had built to ruin, and even more delicious would be the moment when he was able to tell her that it had been _him_. _He_ had done it. _He_ had put the wheels in motion when he had agreed to Garius' proposal. The thought of such retribution brought a small, unbidden smile to his lips.

"Something amusing here, Bishop?" Sand queried quietly, his natural suspicion concentrated in one slightly arched eyebrow.

Bishop continued to smile but did not look at the Wizard. "Not at all, you elven freak. Just thinking about a nursery story I once read. Where the Ogre King wins the Princess' heart." The smile extended just slightly as he paused. "….And then, he eats it."

An unperceivable shudder ran through Sand. "I wouldn't put out the fine table linens just yet, Ranger" he murmured, as he crossed his arms. "You would undoubtedly find, shall we say, certain of your dinner guests that will undoubtedly take exception with your menu, as it were.."

Bishop's smile twisted as he glanced at the elf. "You think?" He would have continued nettling the sharp-witted spellcaster if he knew it wouldn't have further sparked Sand's natural inquisitiveness. Best not to tempt the Wizard with thoughts of sedition. "Just a fairytale, Sand.. Just a fairytale. Nothing to get your robes in a twist over.."

Nevalle now stood behind the Knight Captain, his left arm around her waist and his right arm extended the length of her right arm, his hand closed over hers on the hilt of her sword. Bishop swore he was whispering in her ear, and thought he heard her respond with that giggle she reserved for only those closest to her.

He remembered that giggle only too well. That, and the scent of jasmine and sweat that had wafted around his head and settled in his nose when he had shown her how to more efficiently knock the arrows in her seldom-used short bow. Chasing the Githyanki at Ember hadn't been that long ago. No, he hadn't forgotten the feel of the woman's body next to his, and without her armor and only a linen tunic separating skin from skin, her natural body heat and the heady smell of salt and flowers had kindled an unquenchable flame of want and need inside him. One he couldn't put out.

The nine hells raged inside him, and again he looked away to gather another glimpse at the gatekeeper's door. It wouldn't be long now, he thought. A day, maybe two, until he could finally extinguish the all-consuming burn inside of him. Not a long time now until he and her other blind victims would be free of the spell of servitude and undying devotion that she had placed upon their hearts. They would be thanking him when she was finally gone.


End file.
